Sex and the 60 - The Death of Aidan

The little knot of people stood huddled closely under the green tent. Their feet making the frozen grass crackle. It was an unusually cold winter day and most hoped that the service would not take long. Their minds drifted on to the needed visit to Stop and Shop and to getting home before the game began or to prepare dinner. Heads down, hands mostly clasp in front of them, they listened to the soft words of the rabbi as she went through the familiar rituals – rituals that signaled the end of a life. Then the intimates spoke. He was a good man, a great dad, a protective brother, a polite neighbor, and a generous grandpa...the obligatory words that manifest themselves at the grave – if nowhere else.

Those who were close to him knew him as judgmental, supercilious, and lacking a sense of humor. His ex-wife said he was a good provider and meticulous around the house. But later, after the divorce and meeting husband number two, she realized – it was his way or weeks of revenge and perhaps just as disturbing - he was a slug in bed…neither a quick learner nor a teacher he. His children learned to be very careful around him – not that he was a physical man, but one that was venomous and nearly impossible to please – a strict disciplinarian with not a sentimental bone in his body unless it suited his needs.

He was tall, 6’ 1” with a slender but athletic build. He was very handsome and youthful, disguising his advancing age. With salt and pepper hair – a full head and a clean shaven face, he looked like a man 20 years younger than his actual 68 years. Since it never occurred to him that he had a problem, he saw himself as the perfect mate and confidently described himself in his profile as: witty, charming, a one-woman man who was emotionally stable and financially secure. A man who could be counted on through thick and thin. Honest, loyal, with an irrepressible sense of humor. He talked about his hobbies - cooking, stock trading, and movies and his early retirement – having sold his business to a large conglomerate.

And then he mentions it --- yes IT -- the subject that makes women weak in the knees, that is like an addictive drug, an irresistible draw that sucks all reason out of her head. Yes, he writes about the TV series Sex and the City (http://www.sexandthecity.com/) . OMG, he watched the show – not many men did. And then he goes on to talk about Mr. Big and Aidan. What a dreamboat! He knows the characters in the show! Understands what they meant to a woman. “No”, he confesses, “I’m not Mr. Big. So ladies if you are looking for a bad boy this late in life – you’d better move along”. “Actually, I'm Aidan – thoughtful, kind, attentive and…” He doesn’t use this word but it is clear he is “Vulnerable”. I'm in Love. No really, there is nothing anyone can say. He’s it, the man, my new man! After loving Kevin for 37 years -- I have earned an Aidan in my life.

The last piece of the puzzle falls into place in his concise and competent email to me. “Hi neighbor”, he writes. "I live in town, you look and sound like someone I’d like to get to know”. Help me, I'm swooning. It's him, the Local Guy….as I mentioned last time – the Geriatric Dating Prize! He is the Royal Flush in matchmaking!

So I rush through the necessities, passing along my phone number, mastering the briefest of conversations to get to the coffee chat. And, well, I met this man the other day. And after a half a cup of exhaustingly boring and increasingly more hostile conversation (when I was not what he wanted me to be) I could clearly say: “Mister, I know Aidan and you’re no Aidan”.

He is dead to me!

Sex and the 60 - Six Months

I know when I started this blog I said I would be finding the ridiculous and humorous sides of dating at 60, and most of the time I see it that way, but somehow, today, the humor of this situation is escaping me. As I hit the 6 month mark of being a registered lonely heart, I find myself somber, surprised at the sadness and the frustration that this process engenders. I know they say “nothing worth having comes easy” and “all good things come to those who wait”. But truly, for those of us who have had a fulfilling life with a partner with all of the drama, ups and downs, laughter and tears that come with commitment to another person, the thought of finding a needle in this unruly haystack seems impossible.

I am not necessarily looking for another husband. And those of you who know me know that marriage was the last thing on my mind with Kevin.  In fact we married only 7 months before he died after 37 odd years of thinking it would never work! Life without him is not all that different as we lead very independent lives, but for two important things that are sorely missing:

 The belonging – it is not necessary, but it sure is nice to know where you belong. Know that you belong to someone. That they are looking out for you, know where you are, want to hear your voice and miss seeing you everyday. Of course, feeling that way about another is a rich reward too.
 The witnessing - There is a line from the movie “Shall We Dance” with Richard Gere, Jennifer Lopez and Susan Sarandon. In the movie the Sarandon character says:

"We need a witness to our lives. There's a billion people on the planet... I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you're promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things... all of it, all of the time, every day. You're saying 'Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness."

I realized that the only people who have witnessed my life are now gone and that I have no one's life to witness. I sure do miss that most of all.

So you see, looking at it from that perspective how can I hope to find a proper witness through electronic media? Doctored photos, insipid profiles, colorless phone conversations and unexciting encounters, not just one but many, day in and day out for 6 months is not very encouraging. It may be a function of age, all that baggage we haul around with us now or our unwillingness to give an inch (too fat, too short, too hairy, too bald, too, too, too), or it just may be that we now know our own worth and refuse to give it away to just anyone who is interested in having some. But for whatever reason, internet dating at 60 is just not where it's at.

...Enough – this is not what you tuned in for.  I promise, if I stop thinking so much I can start to laugh again. Well, like the guy who recently found me on Fish. He is nearly a next door neighbor. He says he is like Aidan (in Sex and the City – Carrie’s second love who was the sweetest guy ever) and cannot wait to meet me. Never mind the “Honey Do” list. Finding him is the jackpot – the "Honey Pick-up A Few Things On Your Way Over Than Shovel My Driveway When It Snows And Pick Up That Dead Bird Off My Deck Too” do list! He is the Geriatric Dating Prize --- The Local Guy.

Alright I’ll put my tooth guard back in, paint on my game face and get back in the ring…

See you next time! Yeah, there will be a next time.

Sex and the 60 – The List

One of my new best friends asked me why I was on Match.com. After all how could I hope to find someone who could replace Kevin in my life? I guess I had waxed poetic about Kevin. I was unthinking of how that would sound to someone just learning about me. I spoke of his talent, our star-crossed destiny and our 27 years of bliss. And perhaps, well, I may have overlooked the many years of misery that took their place right next to those years of bliss. I do remember telling my friend that men become perfect and legendary only after death (btw, women become perfect and saintly) and that if I dared to let myself I could remember chapter and verse of the times he was a perfect and legendary shit! But my new friend brought up a good thought. What kind of man should I look for next? If I could boil it down to a few criteria what would they be? In typical control freak mode I started a short list. OK, it’s not so short, but for the purposes of this blog I will give you the Reader’s Digest version.

So here – stream of consciousness without deliberation of order of preference - is the short list. It is very simple really --- He should be:

 Handsome – but not too handsome that he knows it and draws women to him like a moth to a flame and makes me feel inadequate and insecure and have to spend thousands of dollars on plastic surgery to look like a 60 year old trying to look like a 20 year old!

 Tall – but not too tall that I have to wear my high heels all the time or have to get on my tippytoes to kiss him because I get cramps in my calves and that hurts and loving him should not hurt – you know!

 Muscular – but not so muscular that he has those lumpy things and those stringy things that connect your head to your shoulders because those are gross, but he should be able to move the furniture in my house around with ease for hours on end!

 Smart – but not so smart that he makes me feel stupid, because there is nothing worse than feeling stupid in front of someone you are trying to impress. Oh, yeah and let’s make sure that he thinks I am super smart too – hmmm I think I just set up an oxymoron – he being smart and thinking I am super smart. That might make him - a moron – or is he an oxymoron?

 An Active Man – but not into camping or hiking or being in the clean fresh air without benefit of a massage table and masseur. And not into participatory outdoor sports either as he might hurt himself and not be able to move my furniture around all day long.

 A Great Lover – but not so good that I have to think about how many woman he had to sleep with to learn THAT! and whether I should be doing “this” faster, slower, harder or longer?????!

 All I want is A Complex Man with a varied past and a depth of experience. The kind of experience that makes a man unique, thought provoking and intriguing – but he must come without BAGGAGE!

And, without elaboration here are some additional items – hair, on his head not his back; a conscience, not guilty; and financial security - not counting my savings. That’s it. Yes, I believe that’s all I want… Oh, no there is

just one final requirement,

 He must be totally into ME – no buts about it.

See you next time!

Sex and the 60 - The Isle of the Single Male Sirens

It’s been about 40 years since I read Homer’s Odyssey. Funny, but out of nowhere it popped into my head this morning probably because the Odyssey, with its epic adventures, cast of memorable characters, temptations and never ending perils is not dissimilar to the dating game. One yearns to be home, safe, loved, protected but finds the way fraught with danger and distractions. One episode in particular reminds me of where I find myself some days – Odysseus’ passage near the Isle of the Sirens.

Although no one has ever proven the existence of male sirens I am herewith making a case that they do exist and they ply their trade on internet dating sites. They are far more complex and varied than the run of the mill female one with her ample bosom, legs that never end and “come hither” song. (You guys are so easy!) We ladies, however, are being assaulted everyday by a myriad of dark forces determined to entice us onto their isle. You have to row very hard and fast to clear the pull of the Isle of Single Male Sirens:

The Successful Executive Siren – He is retired, drops name, places and brags of the largesse of his golden parachute. There are pictures of homes, cars, boats and all of the toys he knows you will never have in this lifetime. You avoid the picture on this profile – somehow you know it will be demotivating.  But after a while you have to take a little peek.  Yikes! It's your father! OK in this case not my real father as he stayed married and in love with my mother for 63 years and only death did part them. But this guy does look exactly like my own 86 year old father with the addition of a Hitler-style mustache. It took days for me to stop considering him (you shallow slut!) Row girl, row!

And, there is The Younger Guy Siren – Oh, this one is particularly cruel. His approach is always careful and respectful, apologetic for bothering you, but he just couldn’t resist. He explains that he finds himself attracted to older women. That age is just a number and that he knows you are recently widowed. In this case you go immediately to the picture and stare long and hard at it. OMG! You fancy yourself Demi Moore. But a quick look in the mirror smacks you back into reality and you read the lines in his profile about how he is an aspiring chef dreaming of opening his own restaurant.  Then between the lines – older widow, husband’s life insurance policy, maturing Treasury Bonds. OK there goes that fantasy about sweeping everything off the kitchen table – Whoa girl --- No! Row girl Row!

And how about The Handyman Siren – This insidious creature lures you in with his song about what a great house husband he could be. You find yourself dreaming of new granite countertops; marble his and her sinks and maybe even a 2nd floor addition! You always did fantasize about working with Norm Abrams tools! Oh, so what if he’s not a great provider. After all, think how many rainy day projects he would get done now that he’s re-employed in his chosen career - car wash “technician”! Row girl row!

So, you row against the tide – the compelling songs still alarmingly enticing.  But, one day you find yourself leaning against a nice guy in a darkened movie theatre while he holds your hand still greasy from popcorn. Now that quiets the music down a bit.

See you next time.